“If only the world had shown me a little more mercy, Roger, I might have listened to you. But now I know what to expect. I sang my heart out gave it my all, only to be made a laughing stock by the words of one nasty critic? Even if I were to succeed. Even if the critics love and I gain a loyal fan base. Eventually someone or something else will hit the scene and take it all away. What is the point of living in the shadow of the next hot topic?”

I paused in my writing as a voice caught my ear.

“Hurry up! Catch up!” David’s voice carried in through the open window. He came into view on the front lawn, followed by the neighbor kid.

“You be the villain!” David commanded but his friend Ann remonstrated. “I was the last time! It’s your turn!”

They often performed to an invisible audience, acting out the stories that used to be a part of my life. It is good for children to overcome their inhibitions and so I had encouraged them, to some extent, at the risk of creating permature Prima Donnas. But it gave me joy to see their young imaginations at work.

“Well my dad says if you do a really good job at one part you will keep getting cast for that part. So you shouldn’t have done such a good job last time.” David reasoned.

“Why didn’t your dad keep getting parts, then? Wasn’t he good?” Ah, touché, Ann.

“Of course he was! My dad’s good at everything!” I chuckled at the heartwarming loyalty of a seven year old. “He just decided to give up, that’s all.” I stopped chuckling. Is that what I had done?

Ann sounded unconvinced. “Why give up on something you are good at? Didn’t he like acting?”

“People said too many nasty things about him. Not the audience, just nasty people like Ritics and things. He got tired of it. Hey, I will be the actor this time and you can be a Ritic and say some nasty stuff about me.”

“No!” Not to be side tracked, Ann stubbornly got back on topic. “That’s still a villain and I was the villain last time. Besides, I don’t know what Ritics are supposed to say.”

David saw the sense in this and agreed.

“Am I supposed to give up when you start saying stuff?”

“No! Heroes don’t give up! Only real people give up.”

“Well your dad…”

“Aw forget it. Let’s play Robin Hood.”

I was no longer listening. Only real people give up…

I discarded my half finished letter and started again.

Maybe David deserves to have a dad who doesn’t give up.